Chapter Text
"Can we really trust this Barris…?" Sabine’s voice was sharp as she glared at the brown planet below—a desolate wasteland that would make any sane pilot think twice before landing.
Ezra leaned back in his chair beside her, eyes scanning the planet’s surface. "Ahsoka trusts her," he said simply.
"I’m asking you," Sabine countered.
He turned to her, studying her expression. "And what do you think?"
"It’s full of bantha fodder," Sabine snapped. "Palpatine had his assassins—'His Hands'—and she was one of them. The others are still out there. It’s all bantha fodder!"
Ezra chuckled. "And yet, here you are."
Sabine fell silent.
"Mon Mothma’s too busy celebrating her victory in the war to care," Ezra continued, his tone bitter. "She doesn’t see it as her problem anymore. And Leia? She’s got Han and the Republic to worry about."
Sabine let out a dry laugh at his remark before adding, "No one in their right mind would go hunting ghosts."
"But you and I do, Sabine," Ezra said softly. "We lost everything to Palpatine’s schemes."
Sabine’s grip tightened on the controls. "The worst part is… his Sith ideology still exists. It’s growing in the shadows. We can’t just—"
"—and it’ll never give us peace," Ezra finished.
She looked at him, her refusal of marriage weighing heavily on his heart. She couldn’t let it go—her hatred for the Empire, what it had done to her people. She couldn’t stop hunting. And even the thought that the Sith still existed gave her nightmares.
She hated it. Deep down, she knew she was wrong—that the right thing would be to just… let go. To find happiness. But she couldn’t allow herself to move on.
"So why are we here?" she asked bitterly. "Did you sense something?"
Ezra smiled. "A reliable source told me a few crime lords have disappeared. Ghosts rule the city now."
Sabine let out a sharp sigh. "Reliable source? You mean Hondo."
Ezra nodded.
"But—" Sabine rolled her eyes. "How many times are you going to let him trick you, baby?"
Ezra grinned. "This time’s different."
Sabine shot him an angry look. "I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve used that excuse. Want me to remind you?"
"Oh, please, no," Ezra groaned.
"You owe me one," she countered.
"I thought you owed me," he shot back.
She ignored him. "So… where do we land?"
"North. There’s only one city—least polluted. But we should set down on the cliffs. Isolated. Easier to sneak in."
"Fine." Sabine guided their modified Fang-fighter toward the landing site
As they moved through the open doorway, Sabine was hit by a wave of foul air—thick, chemical, and rotting. She immediately sealed her helmet, glancing at Ezra as he fastened a filtration mask over his face. Both wore ragged, oversized coats to conceal their armor; Sabine’s beskar was hidden beneath layers of grimy fabric, while Ezra needed only to mask the telltale outline of his lightsaber. Hoods drawn, they stepped into the wasteland.
The sky hung low, a sickly swirl of gray and brown, like a festering wound.
"Ugh—even through the filters, I can taste it," Sabine muttered.
Ezra’s voice was muffled behind his mask. "Greed. The Empire, the Republic before them… this planet’s been scraped raw. Now it’s trying to choke out the last of us."
"Who the hell lives here?" Sabine scanned the derelict landscape.
"Outcasts. Fugitives. The kind of scum that thrives where no one else will."
They reached the cliff’s edge. "I’ll go first," Sabine said, leaping down. Ezra followed, boots sinking into ashen soil.
The forest ahead was a graveyard of gnarled trunks, their branches twisted as if frozen mid-scream.
"I’m surprised anything’s still alive," Sabine said, her voice tight. "But it feels…"
"Wrong," Ezra finished. "The Force here is… muted. Sick." Beyond the trees, the city loomed—a skeletal ruin of what was once a factory, its chimneys spewing sluggish smoke into the haze.
Ezra adjusted his hood. "We play this smart. If things go bad, we leave. Not our fight."
Sabine shot him a look. "What—?" But after a beat, she nodded sharply.
They slipped through the outskirts, sticking to alleys clogged with debris. The few locals they passed were hollow-eyed elders, their faces lined with exhaustion. Children were scarce, their absence louder than any wail.
"Karabast," Sabine whispered. "The pollution here… it’s in my bones."
Ezra’s reply was grim. "Yeah. Some kind of industrial accident—or maybe sabotage. Poisoned the whole region."
Then—a prickle of unease. Shadows shifted. Eyes tracked them from the dark.
Ezra suddenly grabbed Sabine’s arm, yanking her into a side passage.
"We’re standing out," she hissed.
"Yeah. Time to vanish."
As he moved, something small and fast darted past. A thump against his side—
Ezra froze. His hand flew to his belt, then under his coat.
"Shit."
Sabine spun. "What?"
His face paled. "My lightsaber. It’s gone."
The hooded figure darted through the maze of alleys, slipping through gaps in the rubble, ducking into holes—anywhere to shake pursuit. Only when it felt safe did it finally stop, panting, and yanked back its hood.
A child.
Messy, dirt-streaked hair framed a face with too-big red eyes, a smudge of a nose, and yellowed teeth. She clutched the stolen metal cylinder, turning it over in her hands with curiosity. "What is this…?" she muttered, pressing it to her ear like listen to it.
Then—a shadow fell over her.
She froze. Slowly, she tilted her head up and met the piercing blue eyes of the man looming above her. Before she could react, the cylinder wrenched itself from her grip, flying straight into his palm. The sudden motion sent her stumbling back with a yelp.
Ezra took a step forward—
CRACK!
A blaster bolt scorched the ground inches from his boot. His gaze snapped up.
Another hooded figure, taller, broader, stood atop a rusted scaffold, an ancient rifle leveled at him. "You wanna keep breathing?" the older girl snarled. "Leave that thing and walk away from my sister."
Ezra smirked. "Or what?"
"Or this," she hissed, shifting her aim to his forehead.
"Watch your back," Ezra warned, voice light.
"Not falling for—"
THUD.
Sabine dropped from the rooftop behind her, driving a boot into the girl’s backside hard enough to send her tumbling into the dirt beside the younger thief.
The older sister scrambled for her rifle—only for Ezra’s boot to come down on the barrel, pinning it to the ground. Sabine stepped into the light beside him, arms crossed.
Two pairs of unimpressed eyes stared down at the sisters.
"Kids…" Sabine muttered, her voice thick with reluctant pity.
Ezra exhaled sharply. "And I nearly lost my lightsaber to one."
The older sister shielded the younger with her body, her eyes burning with feral defiance as they locked onto the rifle still pinned under Ezra’s boot.
Sabine’s grip tightened on her blaster. "Not a funny situation. I don’t enjoy threatening and beating children."
"We mean you no harm," Ezra said softly, extending his empty hand toward them.
The older girl hissed like a cornered loth-cat, baring her teeth.
Sabine jerked her chin toward the discarded weapon. "Ezra." With a sigh, he emptied the rifle’s charge pack in one smooth motion and tossed it back to the older sister. "No funny business," Sabine warned. As they waklk away
The girl caught it, clutching it like a lifeline—
"Stop!"
Both froze. The voice belonged to the little sister, her unnaturally red eyes wide. Confusion flickered across her face, but before she could speak, her older sibling grabbed her arm, yanking her backward—
WEEEE-OOOO-WEEEE-OOOO!
An alarm shrieked through the ruins, so loud the corroded walls seemed to vibrate. Sabine’s blaster was in her hands before the second pulse—years of instinct screaming that alarms meant problem.
"Ezra, what—?"
"Trouble," he breathed, the Force screaming a warning—
Then small hands seized them both. The younger sister pulled with desperate strength, her bony fingers digging into their sleeves.
"Leave them!" the older girl screamed.
But the child held on, her entire body trembling with effort. Ezra’s expression softened. In one motion, he scooped her up and closed the distance to the older sister in two strides.
She spat at his feet—
HISSSSSSS
The sound came from above. From the sky.
They didn’t hesitate. All four plunged into a rusted maintenance hatch just as the first droplets hit the ground outside, sizzling like grease on a hot griddle.
Ezra kept the younger girl cradled against his chest as they navigated the tunnel, Sabine close behind. The deeper they went, the more the screams people from above faded—replaced by the eerie drumming of acid rain eating through metal.
"What is this?" Sabine rasped,
The older sister, now climbing a ladder ahead of them, didn’t look back. "Survival. The rain won’t kill you—just melt your skin until you beg for it to."
At the top, she heaved open a hatch.
The space beyond was a patchwork nightmare: a repurposed garbage compartment lined with scavenged insulation panels, threadbare carpets, and a pitiful stash of food packets. A single glowrod cast long shadows over two bedrolls fashioned from shredded tarp.
Sabine’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t a hideout.
It was a home.
"Thanks for having us," Ezra said as he gently set the younger sister down, his eyes flicking to the older one.
"Didn’t have a choice," she grunted, tossing her rifle onto a tattered bedroll. The dim glow of a rusted lantern painted the room in flickering shadows as she pulled back her hood and perched on a crate like a throne.
Sabine sealed the hatch behind them. "How long does this acid rain last?"
The older girl shrugged. "Hours. Days. Months. I ain’t a weathervane. Problem with acid is it comes when it wants."
"Understood," Sabine muttered. She unclasped her coat, draped it over a box, then released the seals of her helmet with a hiss. As she pulled it off—
Both sisters gasped.
The older one, Raska, lurched forward, fingers prodding Sabine’s thigh and chest armor. "This… skin?"
Sabine stiffened but didn’t shove her away. "Protective gear. Fireproof, cold-resistant. For my people, it’s like a second skin."
The younger sister, Liss, traced a hand down Sabine’s arm. "So smooth…" Her wide red eyes lifted. "Why’s your hair like fire?"
"Dyed it," Sabine said, though their blank stares said the concept was lost on them. She shot Ezra a pleading look—only to find him biting back laughter.
Raska circled them, suspicious. "You sky-people."
"Yes," Sabine said slowly, as if explaining to a tooka.
"Look different."
"But pretty," Liss chirped.
Sabine cleared her throat. "What are your names?"
Raska thumped her chest. "Raska. This Liss."
Sabine mimicked the gesture. "Sabine." She jabbed a thumb at Ezra. "Ezra."
"How old are you?" Ezra asked.
Raska blinked. "…Age?"
A silent beat. Sabine and Ezra exchanged glances—these kids didn’t even know what birthdays were.
Raska suddenly yanked Liss back, her voice sharp. "You stay one night. No more."
"Fair," Ezra said, though Liss whined in protest.
They settled on opposite sides of the compartment. Raska shoved two chipped plates at them, each holding a grayish protein lump.
Sabine eyed the "meal." "Thought I had a rough childhood."
Ezra smirked. "Fighting loth-cats for scraps seems gourmet now, huh?" He nudged her. "You hungry?"
Before she could answer, he pulled two energy bottles and military rations from his pack, handing her a portion.
Liss crept forward, nose twitching. "What is that?"
Raska barked at her to retreat—but Liss snatched the food from Sabine’s hand and took a bite.
Her scream split the air.
"POISON!" Raska lunged—
But Liss wasn’t writhing in pain. She was crying. "So… good," she whispered, trembling. "Never tasted…" Words failed her.
Raska froze as Ezra offered his share. Hesitant, she took a bite—
And burst into tears.
Sabine gripped Ezra’s arm, her throat tight. To them, the bland rations were a feast. A luxury they’d never known.
They moved through the dripping underbelly of the city, the dim glow of Sabine’s wrist comm casting jagged shadows on the corroded walls.
"I sent the message," Sabine said, her voice echoing slightly.
Ezra walked beside her, his steps measured. "If we’re lucky, it’ll arrive by tonight. I called in a favor with Rex—he’s scrambling a special aid squad."
Sabine’s grip tightened on her blaster. "You sure about this? I hate dragging them out here just to say, ‘Sorry, false alarm.’"
Ezra smirked. "Relax. She’s here."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant drip-drip of toxic runoff. Sabine hesitated, then forced the words out. "About the sisters..."
Ezra didn’t look at her. "What about them?"
"You know."
A dry chuckle. "You got attached fast."
Sabine’s jaw clenched. "They’re no different than we were."
"So what? You wanna help them?"
"More than that." She stopped walking. "The Fang-fighter’s got space. We could—"
Ezra whirled on her so suddenly she nearly reached for her blaster. His eyes burned with something raw—not anger, but a pain so deep it stole her breath.
"Ezra—?"
He turned away, teeth gritted, shoulders rigid. When he finally spoke, his voice was scraped raw. "Sabine... we might not walk away from what’s coming."
The unspoken truth hung between them: We could die tomorrow.
Sabine said nothing.
Ezra exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair
Some time she hate that she could read hus nind "You won’t marry me, but now you’re ready to adopt orphans?" He didn’t need to say it—she heard the rest. How can we promise them a future when we might not have one?
Sabine stared at the rust-stained floor.
"Mission first," Ezra muttered, stepping past her into the dark.
Sabine inhaled sharply—the cold biting into her lungs. For a moment, she glanced at Ezra, who hesitated at the base of the ladder.
Sabine: Everything fine?
Ezra: You felt it too… the cold.
Sabine: Yes.
Ezra smirked. Waiting for reinforcements doesn’t sound so bad now, huh?
Sabine: Scared?
Ezra didn’t answer. Instead, he said, You remember our promise?
Sabine’s eyes widened. Yes.
Ezra: Whatever happens… we take her down he didn't even look back. Then he began climbing.
Sabine swallowed hard and followed.
The hatch groaned as they pushed it open, revealing a derelict room—rusted walls, a shattered window, and the stale scent of decay. At the center sat a black-clad figure in meditation. Sabine’s hand flew to her weapon, but Ezra raised a hand, stopping her.
They took a cautious step forward.
The figure spoke, voice like grinding stone: I expected Skywalker.
Ezra, dryly: Which one?
Figure: Luke. The Chosen One.
Ezra: Sorry. His schedule’s packed these days. You know—Hero of the Galaxy, rebuilding the Jedi Order…
Silence. Sabine studied the figure—an Inquisitor’s armor, the face hidden behind a helmet.
Sabine: Surrender.
No response. Ezra sat cross-legged, facing the figure.
Ezra: "Last of the Sith," huh?
Figure: Yes. As I’ve said.
Ezra: Sure there’s no secret apprentice? No clones? Nothing?
Figure: I am the Sith.
Ezra: Can we end this?
Figure: How?
Ezra grinned. You know—renounce the dark side, stop trying to rule the galaxy. Join us. Fight for something real.
The figure laughed—a sound like cracking ice. Bridger.
Ezra: You know me. I’m flattered.
Figure: Few face Palpatine’s temptation and refuse. Fewer live.
Ezra: You’re not one of them.
Sabine tensed as the figure’s fist clenched—
Sith: "I will not be chained by the Jedi."
Ezra circled slowly, boots crunching on rust-flakes. "You’re sitting in ruin. Doesn’t look like freedom to me."
The figure’s helmet tilted toward Sabine. She felt the weight of its gaze like a blade at her throat.
Sith: "You’re crippled, Bridger—blind to it. But I broke my chains."
Ezra: "Thanks to the Jedi. Without them, you’d still be Palpatine’s attack hound." A jerk of his chin at the decaying walls. "Look where ‘freedom’ got you."
Sabine, blaster steady: "Hiding like a rat."
Sith: "Waiting."
Ezra: "For what? You’re already free." He spread his arms. "Yet here you are."
The Sith’s gloves creaked as fists clenched. "Freedom is control. Dominion over all things."
Ezra barked a laugh. "Palpatine had that. Still choked on his own greed. You learned nothing."
Sith: "I learned everything."
The figure moved. One instant seated—the next upright, dust exploding outward in a shockwave. Sabine’s blaster snapped up, but Ezra was faster, his free hand barring her shot.
Ezra: "No. I don’t think so."
His saber screamed to life, blue light etching scars across the walls.
The Sith’s laugh was the sound of bones breaking. Crimson blades cracked into existence—twin scourges of plasma that painted Ezra’s face in hellish light.
"Let’s see," hissed the Sith, "which of us is truly free."
Three lightning-fast strikes—blades clashed in a scream of plasma, casting hellish shadows across the ruins. Sabine broke left, twin blasters roaring, but the Sith moved like smoke. Every bolt was deflected, every shot sidestepped, until she flipped backward, putting distance between herself and Ezra.
Sabine snarled, teeth bared behind her helmet. "Dammit!"
Ezra didn’t blink. He’d faced Vader’s crushing power. Survived Maul’s feral rage. But this—this was different. The Sith before him moved with the precision of Palpatine’s own teachings, where every motion was a calculated step in a dance older than the Republic. Ahsoka ran from this. Maul died for it.
He exhaled. Let his muscles loosen. Let go of fear, of hope—even the weight of Sabine’s presence. His grip tightened on his lightsaber.
"Sabine—!"
"I know," she snapped.
He lunged. No finesse, no Jedi restraint—just raw aggression. His blade carved crimson arcs, but the Sith flowed around each strike, her footwork flawless. Behind her, Sabine fired again, only for the Sith to spin her twin sabers into a whirling shield, deflecting every shot while her free hand shoved Ezra back with the Force.
He skidded to one knee, grinning through the dirt. "You’re good."
Sabine froze. Even with the Sith’s back turned, she felt her—a predator’s stillness, the calm before a killing strike.
Silence loom
The Sith stood at the center, a statue of coiled violence, as Sabine and Ezra circled her like twin hands on a clock
Sabine’s hands moved faster than thought—two micro-grenades arced through the air, detonating at the Sith’s feet. A wall of white smoke erupted, swallowing the battlefield whole.
The Sith’s vision vanished. She reached out with the Force, searching for Ezra—only to feel his presence blink out as his lightsaber deactivated. A trap.
"Clever," she hissed, spinning her sabers in a defensive helix. But the Mandalorian was already hunting her through the haze, blaster bolts slicing from every direction—left, right, high, low—each shot forcing her to pivot, to falter.
Then, a whisper of death: Ezra’s blade ignited an inch from her face.
She jerked back, her cheek seared by the heat, but instinct saved her. The next strike will kill. With a snarl, she launched herself upward, escaping the smoke—
—only to see Sabine standing ready, one blaster raised. Ezra held the other.
"NOW!" he roared.
Sabine’s jetpack missile screamed toward the Sith. The warrior sneered, hand outstretched to Force-push it aside—
"Stupid Sith," Sabine spat.
The missile detonated early, erupting into a storm of shrapnel—hundreds of molten scrapnel shredding through the air. The Sith’s cry was cut short as the barrage hammered into her, sending her crashing to the ground
Sabine smirked, her voice ragged but triumphant. "You can’t push and stop a missile when—"
A vice-like grip seized her throat from behind. The Sith’s breath was hot against her ear. "Nice trick."
Ezra stood frozen, blaster raised—too late.
The Sith’s voice dripped with malice. "You should have finished me when I was down."
Sabine choked, barely able to speak. "How…?"
"An arm and a leg as shields," the Sith hissed. "It hurt—but pain only makes me stronger." She pressed her lightsaber to Sabine’s ribs. "Don’t ever underestimate me, Jedi."
Ezra didn’t move.
Above them, the roar of a ship’s engines cut through the air—reinforcements.
"Let her go," Ezra demanded, "and I guarantee your life."
The Sith stepped back, dragging Sabine with her. "Follow us, and she dies."
Then—Sabine’s hand locked onto the Sith’s wrist. The Sith barely had time to react before Ezra vanished from her vision.
SZZZK!
White-hot agony erupted in her side. She looked down in disbelief—Ezra’s lightsaber burned through her abdomen, through Sabine’s body. Impossible. He wouldn’t—
Sabine coughed blood, grinning. "You’re… coming with me."
The Sith screamed—not from pain, but from the vision flooding her mind: Ezra cutting them both in half. With a desperate kick, she launched Sabine away.
Ezra deactivated his blade mid-spin, rolling left as he reignited it in a lethal arc. The Sith raised her saber—too slow. His blade sheared through her hilt, grazing her neck before slicing into her helmet.
CRACK!
The helmet split, revealing pale skin and a shock of red hair beneath. She collapsed to one knee, clutching the smoking hole in her side. Ezra stumbled from the momentum of his swing—
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Sabine, half-conscious, emptied her blaster into the Sith’s chest. "Die! Die!"
Distant shouts echoed—stormtroopers approaching.
The Sith and Ezra locked eyes.
Sabine gasped, her vision swimming. "Finish… her…"
For a heartbeat, the Sith saw it—the hesitation in his eyes. He’s still a Jedi.
With her last strength, she flung a hand upward. The ceiling exploded downward.
Ezra lunged, shielding Sabine with his body as the Sith crawled toward the shattered window—
—and vanished into the storm
Ezra strained against the weight of the debris, , his arms trembling as the Force held the collapsing roof aloft. Sabine’s fingers dug into his forearm—a flash of anger in her fading consciousness. "You bas—" Her grip slackened as the pain swallowed her whole.
Flashlights pierced the dust. Stormtroopers surged forward, grabbing at the rubble.
"I’m fine!" Ezra barked. "The Sith—she went through the window! Go!"
The lead trooper nodded sharply. "Target escaped to the forest! All ships, pursue immediately!"
Ezra’s voice turned to steel. "I don’t care if you have to level the damn city. She’s wounded but not helpless. Whatever it takes—end her. I’ll answer for it."
The trooper hesitated, then signaled two soldiers to stay before rallying the rest.
Free of the debris, Ezra dropped to his knees beside Sabine. The hole in her side still smoldered, her face ghostly pale. Each breath was a shallow, ragged gasp.
A medic crouched beside them. "She’s— We need a transport to the Mon Cala flagship now—"
"No time," Ezra snapped, gathering Sabine into his arms. He broke into a sprint, her blood soaking into his tunic.
The trooper shouted after him. "Where—? You can’t just shake injuries like this!"
Then—the Fang-fighter descended like a specter, its ramp already lowering.
Ezra exhaled. "Good thing we claimed this one."
As he boarded, he keyed a sequence into the console. "Alpha-6745. Ezra Bridger. Deactivate self-destruct."
The trooper gaped. "What—?"
"Bait for the Sith," Ezra muttered. "In case she tried to steal our ride."
A floating medical droid streaked from the shadows, its slender arms extending to take Sabine midair. Scanners whirred.
"Liver mass loss: 30%. Third-degree plasma burns. Pulmonary embolism. Multi-organ failure."
The droid’s lasers sliced into her flesh, sealing ruptured vessels.
"Cardiac arrest."
The words hung like a death sentence.
The medic lunged forward, slapping an oxygen mask over Sabine’s face as the droid administered a charged shock to her chest.
THUMP.
A weak pulse flickered on the monitor.
"Heartbeat stabilized. Critical condition," the droid intoned.
"She needs a coma now," the medic urged. "And a full blood transfer—her liver’s failing!"
A second droid activated, revealing a bacta tank embedded in the ship’s wall. The floating droid guided Sabine into the viscous fluid, diving in after her to continue repairs.
The trooper whistled. "How’d you afford a *DF-9 surgical droid*?"
Ezra slumped against the bulkhead, exhaustion etching lines into his face. "Sabine’s idea. We keep landing in hellholes with no medcenters." A ghost of a smile. "And a few… political favors."
The trooper grinned
The DF-9 surgical droid remained submerged in the bacta tank for over an hour. Five times, Sabine’s heart faltered. Five times, the droid shocked it back into rhythm.
The medic urged Ezra to wait outside—this wasn’t a sight for living eyes. But the Jedi stood rooted, his knuckles white against the tank’s viewport. His choice. His consequences.
Finally, the droid emerged with a hydraulic hiss, its sensors conducting a final scan. Ezra lunged forward.
"DF-9—?"
The droid’s voice was clinical. "Subject stabilized. Vascular systems repaired. Estimated bacta immersion required: six standard months." A pause. "Survival probability: 70%. Recommendation: Transfer to Republic medical facility for—"
The medic interrupted. "Her injuries…?"
"Liver functionality at 10%. Lungs: 70%. Kidneys: 90%." The droid’s photoreceptors dimmed slightly. "Pregnancy terminated."
Ezra’s breath hitched. "What?" His gaze snapped to Sabine’s floating form, her orange hair drifting like flame in the blue gel.
The medic’s voice softened. "She was pregnant."
"How long?" Ezra ask
"Four weeks," the droid replied.
Ezra’s throat tightened. "Did she… know?" As he look to the other droid
The droid’s processors whirred for three agonizing seconds—an eternity for a machine.
"Don’t answer," Ezra whispered. He pressed his forehead to the cool transparisteel, once, twice, as if the pain could reset reality. "I don’t want to hear it."
agonizing hour. Ezra sat slumped against the Fang-fighter's ramp, his fingers tracing idle patterns in the toxic dust. When the squad leader approached, the hesitation in his steps was palpable.
"Report," Ezra demanded, voice hollow as a gutted ship.
The leader swallowed hard. "Target escaped."
The words hung in the air for half a second before Ezra's hand shot out. An invisible force yanked the trooper forward, his collar tightening around his throat as he crashed to his knees before the Jedi. "What?" Ezra's voice was dangerously calm.
Behind them, troopers froze mid-motion, hands twitching toward their blasters but not daring to draw.
With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, Ezra flung the leader aside like discarded cargo. "Let me understand this," he said, rising to his feet with deliberate slowness. "She had a lightsaber wound through her abdomen, no weapon, and at least four blaster burns. And your professional assessment is... she escaped?"
The leader rubbed his bruised throat, coughing. "We had her cornered in the northern ruins, but the acid rain intensified. Our transport took a direct hit—half my squad is in medbay with chemical burns."
A younger trooper, his armor still streaked with acid scoring, stepped forward. "We nearly had her, Master Jedi. It was just... bad luck."
"Luck." Ezra's laugh was bitter as Corellian whiskey. "I gave explicit orders to burn the entire sector if necessary. Instead, you retreated to your 'safe little ship' like frightened tookas." His eyes swept over the battered squad. "And this is the best commando unit Rex could spare?"
The silence that followed was heavier than the planet's polluted atmosphere.
It was broken by the scuff of boots on gravel as two troopers dragged forward Raska and Liss, their wrists bound in stun cuffs. "Caught these two scavenging the wreckage near the crash site," one reported. Like big win
Ezra waved a hand, the cuffs clicking open. "Leave them. You've done enough damage for one day."
The squad leader stood slowly, genuine remorse in his voice as he said, "We truly are sorry, Master Jedi."
"Bad luck," Ezra mocked, turning his back on them all. The sisters followed silently, Liss's small hand clutching at Raska's tattered sleeve like a lifeline.
Inside the ship, the sterile glow of the bacta tank cast eerie shadows. Raska's breath caught when she saw Sabine suspended in the blue liquid, her orange hair drifting like flame in zero-g. "Your partner..." she began, then trailed off.
Liss pressed both palms against the transparisteel, her too-big eyes reflecting the dim light. "Hurt," she whispered, as if the word itself might cause pain.
Ezra didn't turn from the controls he was pretending to adjust. "Why did you come back?"
Raska hesitated, her fingers worrying at a frayed seam in her pants. "Liss... she felt the ghost-woman's pain. Like a bad dream that wouldn't stop." She swallowed hard. "We came to see if you were okay."
A long moment passed. Then Raska did something unexpected—she shoved Liss forward with sudden determination. "Take her."
Liss whirled, eyes wide. "What?!"
"Your ship is big," Raska pleaded, her voice cracking. "She's small. Doesn't eat much. Can clean. Cook. Even fix things if you show her how."
Ezra finally turned, his gaze flickering between the sisters and Sabine's floating form. He remembered Sabine's unspoken wish back in the tunnels, her instinctive need to protect these children of war.
"Please," Raska whispered, her tough exterior crumbling. "The rains will get worse. The gangs near our shelter already—"
"Both of you," Ezra interrupted. "Get in."
Epilogue
The navigation console glowed before him, displaying two potential routes out of the system:
Primary Lane: Blocked by a Mon Calamari patrol fleet.
Secondary Route: A treacherous path through the Kaliida Nebula's ion storms—the kind of run smugglers made when they were desperate.
Ezra's finger hovered over the commlink. The hologram that flickered to life revealed a familiar face—younger than his, but with eyes that had seen too much.
"Bridger," Luke Skywalker said, his holographic form shimmering blue. "You're in deep this time."
Ezra's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Luke. I need a favor